


More Sniclets

by ginger_mosaic



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Snake Discovery, Snake children, Snakes, snabies, wiggleverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_mosaic/pseuds/ginger_mosaic
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have somehow managed to miracle themselves five small snake children. Chaos ensues.A series of short fics about the snabies that will update whenever I come up with something new and have nowhere else to put it.
Comments: 168
Kudos: 138
Collections: Wiggleverse





	1. In which Junior discovers his tail

**Author's Note:**

> The people demanded snabies! So I’m sharing what I’ve got. Now please leave me alone.*

The sofa in the bookshop is one of Crowley’s favorite places to practice sloth these days, and today he is lounging across its length playing the Untitled Goose Game on his phone. [1] He has one more task to complete for the current level of the game, but instead, he’s waddling around and throwing everything into the lake.

"FATHER! FATHER!"

He looks up from his game toward the open door leading to the main part of the shop. It’s closed today; Aziraphale is across town at a rare book auction, probably using frivolous miracles to get the volumes he wants.

“Yeah?” he calls back.

“FATHER!”

The frantic hissing doesn’t sound too terribly urgent, so Crowley throws a newspaper into the lake and then pauses the game. He rolls to his feet and goes into the other room where the terrarium sits.

When he looks in, he sees Anthony Junior wiggling in frantic circles, hissing and huffing indignantly. His siblings appear to be all huddled up inside the cave set in the corner; one of their tails is poking out of the entrance.

“What’s all this noise about? Why aren’t you napping with the others?” asks Crowley.

"Father, make it stop!" whines Junior.

Crowley glances around the habitat and then around the bookshop, but he doesn't see anything out of place.

"Make what stop?" he asks.

Junior huffs and gestures with his head toward... his tail? "Make it stop bothering me! It keeps... moving! It hit me!"

Crowley smiles and leans an elbow onto the lip of the terrarium. "You mean your tail?"

"YES. IT'S ANNOYING ME."

"Hmm," says Crowley.

Junior flicks his tongue out crossly, pouting. “Father!”

"Try this," says Crowley, shifting into his snake form and wrapping around the tank so Junior can see all of him. He lifts his own tail and wiggles it in the air. "Look here, you," he tells it, "I'm the boss. Now stop wiggling."

It stops. Junior gasps.

"Now I can make it do whatever I want. See?" Crowley waves his tail in the air.

Junior watches with wide eyes, his tail still in the air now. He turns to it and sticks his tongue out in concentration. When his tail moves, he gasps again. His head whips around to look back at his father, eyes wide.

"FATHER, YOU ARE A GENIUS."

* * *

[1] While the author is aware that the Untitled Goose Game is not available on mobile, Crowley does not know this and assumes he would be able to play it on any device. He once played it on Aziraphale's computer monitor while using the rotary phone to control it. Aziraphale didn't mind; it meant less people could call him while Crowley was playing. [return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Please do not leave me alone.


	2. In which Oscar sends snan mail (snake fan mail)

Crowley was quite proud of “vloggers.” He hadn’t made them up, exactly, but he had encouraged the trend once it started in the early aughts and had certainly taken credit for the sloth and vanity that ensued. [2]

Vlogging paved the way for educational content, which was even better, in Crowley’s opinion. [3] The children were endlessly curious and had so many questions, and sometimes when Crowley didn’t know the answers or needed a break, he turned on Youtube. SciShow, Crash Course, Minute Physics, Animal Planet, and the children’s favorite:

Snake Discovery.

One afternoon, the kids were watching it on his laptop while Aziraphale pretended to sell books and Crowley went for a drive. When he got back, only Oscar was left in front of the laptop. He was sitting rather close to it, leaning toward the screen, his tail on the trackpad.

“Hey, spawn, where are the others?” asked Crowley as he passed.

“Playing the crisp game,” said Oscar absently. [4] He was watching the screen very intently. Crowley leaned down to see the video. Emily was showing off a very nice looking scaleless albino corn snake in the video.

“Father,” said Oscar quietly, awed, “who is she?”

Crowley smiled and sat down in the chair at Aziraphale’s desk, where the laptop was set up. “I don’t know,” he said. “She’s a pretty one, though isn’t she?”

Oscar hummed and leaned even closer to the screen. They watched the video together until the end. When the video ended, Oscar pressed the button on the trackpad with his tail to start the video over again.

Crowley smothered a grin. His son had a  _ crush _ .

Aziraphale was never allowed to find out. He fretted far too much about the children growing up.

“Emily takes fan mail, you know,” he said casually, checking the video information for the snake’s name—Sunnyside Up. [5]

Oscar finally looked up from the screen. “Fan mail?” he asked.

* * *

A few weeks later, two letters were pinned to the cork board where Emily kept the latest fan mail.

> Dear Emily Roberts,
> 
> My son has a crush on one of your snakes and wanted to send her some fan mail. He asks that you please give her his letter and the picture he drew. He also wanted to send her a chicken nugget, but I convinced him that it wouldn’t keep in the mail.
> 
> Thank you for your Youtube channel. We all enjoy it immensely.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> A.J. Crowley

> Dear Sunnyside Up,
> 
> I like  <strike> u </strike> you. Will you be my frend? I think you  <strike> r </strike> are  <strike> butiful </strike> beautiful.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Oscar

  
  


[Image description: A drawing in colored pencil of two snakes, Sunnyside Up and Oscar. Between them is a brown table with two blue tea cups and a blue plate on which three dinosaur chicken nuggets are arranged.]

* * *

[2] Audible ads were an entirely human invention, and Crowley wanted no credit for them. [return to text]

[3] Though of course he wouldn’t take credit for that in particular if the Head Office ever asked. [return to text]

[4] The Crisp Game was something Crowley invented when he wanted to take a nap but the children all wanted to play with him. The goal is to swallow a crisp without breaking it until the crisp makes it to the middle of their stomachs. It was a good time-waster, but not a very quiet one. Crowley didn’t actually end up getting any sleep due to all the crunching. [return to text]

[5] Sunnyside Up is first introduced in [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJ-1VHYlWZk) and her name was revealed in [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv5NG6oYu94). [return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I went to SOFT JAIL for this before I even POSTED IT, just because of the stupid art I made. You all better appreciate that I had to post this from PRISON.


	3. In which the snabies are fussy

It had been a long day at the park. A pleasant day, but a long one, and Aziraphale was quite ready to go home and relax.

Unfortunately, it did not seem that he would get any rest any time soon. The children were… _ fussing _.

“Father!” cried Rose again. “He’s pushing me! Make him stop!”

“I’m not pushing you!” snapped Anthony Junior. “I’m just sitting here.”

“He’s _ pushing me_,” Rose insisted.

“I am _ not! _” said Anthony Junior, and to make his point, he shoved at her with his snout. She rolled over with a cry into the side of the box and then began sobbing in earnest.

“Anthony, please, don’t push your sister,” begged Aziraphale. He glanced at Crowley, who was glaring at the road in front of them and driving somewhat faster than he usually did (and that was saying something). Still, Aziraphale pleaded quietly, “Crowley, please, can’t you go any faster?”

Crowley only grunted in reply, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He hadn’t said a word since they packed up the picnic and walked to the car.

It had been such a lovely day, too. The weather was _ perfect _—clear skies, a breeze, warm sun shining down on them all—and the children had enjoyed the outing to the park. They took turns on the frisbee Crowley was throwing around, screaming in delight, and after Zed chased a duck into the pond, they all went for a little swim. Aziraphale carefully dried them off before lunch and allowed them to wiggle off into the grass after, as long as they promised not to roam too far.

And now they were all fighting and shouting at each other and crying, and Aziraphale just did not know what to do to calm them.

“We’re almost home, my dears,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the screaming from the back seat. Oscar had joined in the crying, and Zed was hiding their head under their coils. “Just a little while longer, and then you can… do whatever you like.”

“I want ice cream,” said Malus petulantly, apparently spying the ice cream shop through the window as they passed by.

“Oh, my dear, I don’t—”

“ICE CREAM!” shouted Anthony Junior and Oscar, who was still crying.

“Well, all right, if you say so,” said Aziraphale.

“No,” said Crowley sharply, speaking for the first time since they got in the car. “No ice cream. That’s the last thing we need.”

“FATHER!” they all cried. “ICE CREAM.”

“I want mint!” said Rose.

“Rose, dear, you don’t even like mint,” Aziraphale pointed out.

She burst into fresh tears and was thereafter incomprehensible.

By the time they made it to the bookshop, Zed was crying, “I hate you!” over and over again, and Aziraphale was feeling very near to tears himself.

Crowley parked in front of the shop and flung off his sunglasses. They hit the windshield and spun into the opposite corner. He turned around and leveled his glare on the children. “Look here,” he said loudly, and they all stopped shouting and looked at him with wide eyes, whimpering. “No more shouting today. That’s enough of that. We’re going inside. _ Quietly. _ Angel, put the kettle on. I’ll take care of the kids.”

And with that, he threw himself out of the car and then opened the back door to unbuckle the children’s box. Aziraphale hurried to unlock the shop and close the door once Crowley was safe inside with the children. They were all sniffling and whimpering.

“Father,” Oscar began, hiccupping, but Crowley hissed at him and he fell silent.

“Tea, angel,” said Crowley, brushing right past him and up the stairs to the flat, still carrying the box containing their children, instead of setting it down to let them roam freely.

Aziraphale trudged to the kitchen listlessly. Crowley was snapping at him, the children were upset—why did such a lovely day have to end like this?

He went through the motions and prepared two mugs of chamomile tea, because it seemed like the thing they both needed right now. He set the two mugs and their jar of honey on a tray and carried it upstairs. He checked the study and the green room first before heading to the bedroom, nudging the ajar door open with his foot.

He almost dropped the tray at what he saw.

Crowley was curled up on the bedspread in snake form, with the children lying haphazardly on top of him and in the center of his coils. Anthony Junior was upside down, his belly exposed, his mouth wide open. Mal was curled around the end of Crowley’s tail, almost like they were holding hands. They were all, save for Crowley, fast asleep.

Crowley lifted his head when Aziraphale came in. “Shh,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily and a little sleepily.

“What happened here?” whispered Aziraphale, tip-toeing to the bed. He picked up one of the mugs and eyed the bed. “Tea?” he offered.

“Tea was for you, angel,” said Crowley. “Go relax, read something. I’ve got thisss.”

Aziraphale felt very near to tears again. The car ride was so frustrating, with Crowley’s silence, and Aziraphale had felt so alone, and now Crowley was offering him a chance to relax after that hardship.

“I think I’d much rather sit with you all,” said Aziraphale, setting down the tray and sliding under the covers carefully so as not to disturb the children. “What happened?” he asked again. “They were all so upset.”

“They were jussst tired, angel,” said Crowley, shifting his coils to make room for Aziraphale’s legs. “You know how I get. Imagine being new to utter exhaustion.”

Oh. Well. That made quite a bit of sense.

“Poor dears,” he said. Crowley hummed in agreement and stretched out his neck to lay it on Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale petted him absently, watching the children sleep. “Why is Anthony Junior upside down?” he asked after a while.

Crowley snorted softly. “He was so mad, he pretended to be dead, like he saw the hognoses do in Emily’s videosss. Fell asleep that way.”

Aziraphale smothered a laugh. “Oh goodness.”

“We really wore them out today, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and leaned back against the pillows, reaching for his mug of tea. “Yes. I suppose we did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to everyone who is suffering from quarantine and going stir crazy and quite possibly driving your space-mates up the wall.
> 
> For everyone's sake, please... take a nap.


	4. In which the snabies are fussy, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing scene from the previous chapter. While Aziraphale makes tea, Crowley puts the children down for a nap.

It was taking everything Crowley had—all of his patience (ugh), temperance (UGH), and compassion (UGHHHHHH)—not to scream. But more screaming—and  _ ice cream _ , for  _ Someone’s sake, _ Aziraphale—was the last thing they needed right now.

“I hate you! I hate you!” was Zed’s mantra at the moment. And usually they were so even-tempered. (Certainly didn’t get it from Crowley, that’s for sure. Nothing about Crowley is  _ even _ . He shuddered at the thought.)

Circumstances were dire. That much was clear.

After Crowley had cleared the angel away, he carried the box full of his children upstairs to the little flat above the bookshop. They whimpered and sniveled the entire way, and Crowley forced himself not to look down at them in his arms. Aziraphale had been near tears out of frustration and sympathy; they didn’t need another father crying all over them.

Crowley brought them into the bedroom and upended the box over the bed. The children cried out in alarm, and Oscar began to wail in earnest again. Usually Junior was delighted to be thrown upon the bed and would bounce as much as he could, but now he just flopped onto it and cried with the others, wriggling disconsolately.

“All right, all right,” he said loudly. “That’s enough.”

“No!” cried Junior. “No, Father!”

Crowley sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t even know—Oh for pity’s sake—” He reached out and grabbed Junior from where he had slithered to the edge of the bed in an escape attempt. “Look,” he started again, “you’re all very tired. You had a big day, and now it’s time for a nap.”

“No nap!” said Mal. “Ice cream!”

“I’m not tired, Father!” said Rose.

“No nap!” said Junior, constricting Crowley’s wrist. “No nap!”

“I don’t want nap!” screamed Zed, much louder than was necessary. “I hate nap!”

“I hate nap!” Junior echoed.

“Too bad,” says Crowley. “You’re all getting a nap.”

“It’s not bed time!” said Junior.

“Sometimes we sleep even when it’s not bed time,” said Crowley. “You lot spent a lot of energy today and—Ow!”

Junior had  _ bitten _ him. Just flailed his little head until he came into contact with Crowley’s hand and chomped right down on his thumb.

The others abruptly stopped wailing and looked up, eyes wide. Crowley glared at Junior, who slowly released his thumb until only his nose was touching it. Junior’s little tongue flicked out against his thumb. Crowley might have thought it apologetic were it not for the sudden fear in his son’s eyes.

Crowley took a deep breath. Patience. They were so very little and  _ knew _ so very little. They didn’t know yet what it meant to be bone tired, what it meant to carry years on your back, and how setting them down for a time was an immense relief.

At least they knew when they had gone too far.

Crowley lowered Junior to the bed, and Junior slithered off his arm and curled up, hiding his head under his coils. Without another word, Crowley shifted into his snake form and made a circle around his children, drawing them into a smaller pile. Rose and Oscar sobbed briefly, and Crowley shushed them and soothed them with flicks of his tongue.

“All right, all right,” he said again. “You’ll make yourselves sick crying like that. Time for a nap.”

“But I don’t  _ want _ nap,” said Junior, a little more quietly this time. He pushed himself under Crowley’s tail and tried to wiggle away across the bed again. “Don’t  _ want _ nap.”

Crowley lifted his head, grabbed Junior in his mouth, and dropped him unceremoniously back in the center of his coils. “Can’t always get what you want, spawn. You’re tired. Nap time.”

“I’m not tired!” said Rose again.

“I don’t want nap!” protested Junior again. “You’re bad, Father! I’m died now!” He threw himself over so that he was upside down, lying on top of Crowley, his mouth hanging open. “I hope you’re happy! I’m died!”

“No nap, Father!” said Mal.

“Shh,” said Crowley, petting her head with the end of his tail. “You’ll wake Junior.”

For sure enough, Junior had fallen asleep.

The others sniffled and hiccupped a little while longer, throwing their little bodies around fretfully. Crowley moved them around gently until they were comfortable enough to drift off. Zed slithered up and offered their snout, and Crowley bent down to boop it.

“I’m sorry I say I hate,” said Zed sleepily. “I don’t hate.”

“It’s okay, spawn,” said Crowley, nudging Zed to carefully move him over his snout. Zed obliged and curled up on top of Crowley’s head.

Zed sighed. “I love you, Father.”

“Love you, too, kiddo,” said Crowley, gently rocking his head from side to side until Zed fell asleep. He set them down carefully, curling them into a little pile of limp, unconscious snake child, and then sighed and rested his head on his coils so that he could watch them all until Aziraphale joined them.


	5. In which Father is sneeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snabies have human forms in this one. :O

Junior had the idea to play up and down tag [6], but Mal had wandered off a while ago. They didn’t want to start without asking her if she would like to join, so Rose went to go find her. She wandered around the cottage looking, checking every room. Azirafather was reading in the library, and Father was probably still taking a nap, so she tried to be quiet while she called for her sibling.

Rose had looked  _ everywhere _ —under all the furniture and in all of the light fixtures and in all of the plants—and still couldn’t find her, so she tip-toed to their fathers’ room. The door was cracked open, so she pushed it slowly and peeked in.

Mal was lying on her stomach on the bed, kicking her feet in the air, and she turned when Rose stepped in.

“Shh,” said Mal, holding a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake Father.”

“What are you doing?” whispered Rose, tip-toeing over to the bed.

“Watching,” said Mal. She giggled. “Father is cute when he’s asleep.”

Rose moved so she could see her Father’s face peeking out of the blankets and smushed against a pillow. The blankets were tucked just over his chin, and his red hair splashed against the dark pillow underneath his head. He looked very relaxed, the lines on his face smoothed out and his eyebrows two dark, gently curved lines on his brow. Mal reached out and lightly ran a finger down the slope of his nose, and Father didn’t even move.

Rose leaned on the edge of the bed and laid her head down on her arms. “Father is always cute,” she said.

Mal sighed, smiling. “Yeah,” she said, continuing to stroke Father’s nose gently.

They watched Father sleep for a while. He was very still, unlike when he was awake. Father was always moving when he was awake, even when he was playing games on his phone or his Switch. He’d tap his foot or roll from his stomach to his back and back again. Mal and Junior wiggled around a lot, too, though Zed, Oscar, and Rose didn’t do it so much. Azirafather was able to sit for hours without moving. They had tested this once by balancing things on his head while he wasn’t paying attention. He was deeply involved in a book, and Junior got a ladder so they could pile teacups and saucers on Azirafather’s head. They had nearly made it to the ceiling when Father walked in and demanded to know what they were doing, alerting Azirafather to their game. [7]

Rose inhaled sharply when she heard the thumps of running feet out in the hallway. She had left the door open, so when Junior and Zed passed, they caught sight of their siblings and stopped.

“What are you—” Junior began, and Rose and Mal both shushed him.

“Father is sleeping!” said Rose.

“Oh,” whispered Junior, and he tip-toed into the room, the same way Rose had done earlier. Zed followed him, and they both crept up to the bed. Oscar was not far behind, and he wandered in after them.

“What’s going on?” asked Oscar, thankfully keeping quiet.

“We’re watching Father sleep,” said Rose.

Oscar’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Zed and Junior both leaned forward and transformed so they could slither across the bed to get a closer look at their father’s sleeping face. Zed slipped under the covers while Junior wiggled across them to climb up on Father’s shoulder and look down.

“Father’s very tired,” whispered Junior. “Do you think it’s because we made him chase us this morning?”

“I think he worked in the garden a lot yesterday, too,” said Oscar, climbing up on the bed to slide onto his belly next to Mal. “And Azirafather said they’d stayed up late doing grown up things.”

Rose hummed. “What grown up things?”

“Probably kissing,” said Junior, sticking his tongue out in distaste. [8]

“Ew,” said Mal.

“It’s not ew,” said Oscar. “It’s how fathers show they love.”

“Azirafather kisses my snoot and says he love,” said Zed, muffled underneath the covers.

Junior leans down and carefully touches his snout to Father’s nose. “Like this,” he said.

Mal giggled and wiggled forward on the bed to touch her nose to Father’s too. “I love you, Father,” she whispered.

“Move over, my turn,” said Oscar.

“What are you doing?” asked Zed, who couldn’t see.

“Booping Father’s nose,” said Junior.

“My turn! My turn!” said Zed, and they watched their form slither closer to Father under the blankets.

There was a sharp movement, and Zed cried out, and Father opened his eyes suddenly.

“Got you!” said Father. Junior fell over behind Father’s shoulder as he moved his arm out from under the covers to reveal that he had grabbed Zed.

“Let me go, Father!” cried Zed, giggling.

Father did not. “What’s going on here?” he asked. “What are you lot doing?”

“Watching you sleep,” said Rose.

“Father is cute when he sleeps,” said Mal, grinning, her head propped up in her hands.

“Oi,” said Father, narrowing his eyes. “I am not. Cute is a four-letter word.”

“Cute, cute, cute,” sang Mal, and then she yelped as Father lunged forward, grabbing her around her middle.

“Take it back, Malus,” warned Father.

“No!” she said, giggling uncontrollably as Father began to tickle her.

“Father, unhand me snibling!” cried Junior, throwing himself over Father’s shoulder to help, but then somehow Father got hold of him with the same hand that held Zed. “No! No, Father!”

“Father is cute!” squealed Mal, kicking her legs helplessly.

“No fair!” said Oscar. “I didn’t get to boop Father’s snoot!”

“Oh yeah?” said Father, and Oscar’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t quick enough, and Father scooped him up in his arms too. Oscar screamed and giggled, and Father tickled him, too.

“Cute snoot!” cried Mal, and Oscar joined in. “Cute snoot!”

“Take it back, take it back!” said Father, and then he looked up at Rose, who still only had her arms on the bed. “Well?” he asked. “Are you going to get in here and save your siblings or not?”

Rose grinned and giggled and jumped up onto the bed, throwing herself onto the pile, and Father began to tickle her, too.

“No, Father, no!” cried Junior, hanging upside down in Father’s hand. He was trying to smack Father’s hand with his tail, but he kept hitting Zed’s face instead. “Unhand me!”

Rose screamed and tried to wriggle away from Father’s hand while also trying to get closer to tickle him too. Mal and Oscar were also trying to tickle him, even though they knew Father was immune to tickles.

“What  _ on Earth _ is going on in here?”

“Help, Azirafather!” cried Zed.

“Fa-a-ather i-i-s cuuuuute!” screamed Mal, hiccupping as she tried to speak through her laughter.

“Aziraphale, come control your children!”

“ _ My _ children?”

“Cute snoot!” cried Oscar. “Cute snoot!”

“All right, all right,” said Azirafather, climbing onto the bed and prying Father’s fingers open. Zed and Junior sped up along Azirafather’s arms to curl around his shoulders, as Azirafather plucked Mal from Father’s arms and sat her in his lap.

Father finally stopped tickling Rose and Oscar and flopped down onto his back, his breath  _ whooshing _ out of him, one arm still around each of them.

Azirafather smiled down at him. “Would anyone care to explain what happened?”

“We were watching Father sleep,” said Mal, safe in Azirafather’s lap. “He was cute.”

“Watch it,” said Father, pointing a finger at her in warning.

“Then he attack!” said Zed.

“‘S what you get for waking me up with all the ruckus,” said Father.

“We were trying to kiss your nose,” said Oscar.

“Because it’s cute,” said Mal, grinning, and Father grabbed her foot and yanked on it.

“Your  _ children _ , Aziraphale,” said Father, “are  _ monsters _ .”

Azirafather hummed. “Well, in that, they take after you, my dear.”

They all laughed at Father, who rolled his eyes.

“All right, you win,” he said, sighing. “Anyway, seems to me I’ve got two here who didn’t get a turn.”

“Yay!” cried Rose, sitting up, but she let Oscar go first. He touched his nose to Father’s and then moved aside so Rose could do the same.

“I didn’t get to!” said Zed. “Father attacked!”

“Oh dear,” said Azirafather, scooting over on the bed to get closer. Father moved Rose onto his stomach to make room, and Azirafather maneuvered Mal to lie between them. Junior curled up on Azirafather’s chest while Zed slithered over to boop Father’s nose.

“There, that’s all of you,” said Father, sighing. Rose felt him relaxing underneath her, and she patted his cheek gently. “Now can I  _ please _ go back to sleep?”

“Azirafather didn’t get a turn,” said Oscar. Father groaned, and Azirafather chuckled.

“All right, angel, let’s get this over with,” said Father, and Azirafather grinned and leaned in to rub their noses together. Father surged up and stole a kiss, and Junior made a gagging noise.

“Ew, Father!” he cried, trying to wiggle out from between them where he had fallen. When he made it to the edge of the bed, he shifted back into human form and ran for the door. “Come on!” he called back. “Up and down tag!”

The rest of them threw themselves off the bed and toward the door, leaving Father and Azirafather behind. As Rose ran for the door, she heard their fathers laughing behind them. She paused, one hand on the door, and looked back to see Father gazing up at Azirafther with a soft, adoring smile. Azirafather put his hand on Father’s chest and patted it twice, and Father placed a hand over his.

Rose smothered a grin and hurried to go find her siblings. They had a game to play.

* * *

[6] Up and Down Tag is a type of tag in which players are safe only when they are standing on something like a tree trunk or hanging from something like a tree branch.[return to text]

[7] Miraculously, none of the tea cups or plates broke when they hit the floor.[return to text]

[8] He wasn’t wrong. There was quite a lot of kissing, and after that some drunken dancing, and then after that mostly drunken conversation about Old Times.[return to text]


	6. In which the snabies write sniction (snake fiction)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Nenchen, as revenge.

It has been a very quiet day in the bookshop, which only strikes Aziraphale as strange these days because of the existence of the children. Usually they are making some sort of ruckus.

He goes to the terrarium to see if they are sleeping and only finds Oscar and Rose asleep in the little teapot-shaped cave Crowley fashioned out of a broken pot. He places it back down carefully and wanders around the store looking for the others. Finally, he finds Zed asleep upside down in a little patch of sunlight on top of a bookcase. Mal is curled up on a sleeping Crowley’s chest watching Snake Discovery on his phone.

And Anthony Junior is on Aziraphale’s own desk with a piece of paper and a pencil, which he is holding with the end of his tail.

“Hello, dear,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“Writing,” says Junior, concentrating very hard on his paper, his little forked tongue sticking out while he struggles to write with the pencil. The children’s handwriting is still rather scratchy and difficult to read, but they are all doing their best. Aziraphale has never seen Junior work this hard at it. Usually he prefers to vocalize whatever he wants to say.

"Writing what?" asks Aziraphale.

"A story!" says Junior, finally looking up. He waves the pencil in the air. "About chimkin nuggest!"

Aziraphale feels his heart swell. Oh goodness. One of the children is writing a story!

“Oh, I do like stories,” he says, leaning forward to peek, but Junior slithers onto the paper to block the somewhat... illegible letters.

"It's not done!" cries Junior. "No peek!"

Aziraphale straightens up and tries not to pout. “But you will let me read it when you’re done, won’t you?”

“Uh huh!” says Junior. “I know Azirafather likes books. And this is like book! Only small.”

Aziraphale smiles. “That it is,” he agrees.

He leaves Junior to it and forgets about it for a while, losing himself in one of his precious books, until late in the afternoon when Junior slithers up to his ankles with the piece of paper in his mouth.

“I done!” says Junior, dropping the paper when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Oh, good!” says Aziraphale, leaning over to pick it up. He offers a hand to Junior as well, and Junior slithers up his arm to his shoulder to sit there while he reads.

Junior’s story goes like this:

_ Ones upon a tim ther was an chimkin nuggest name Diplodikis. He go on advemchur! T rex come too. Them explor. They find tresure! Wow! They r frens so them shar tresure. Sudemly! Attack! Its mongoos! Go way! them say. Mongoos is scare, so it go way. Wahoo! Is safe! Diplodikis and T rex go home and eat mice and salad becuz fathers say salad is good. Then them take sleep. The end. _

It’s not a particularly riveting story, but pride blooms in Aziraphale’s chest anyway. Junior made this story up, all on his own, and thought to write it down. Crowley claims to not be much of a reader, but clearly their children are both readers and writers.

“I’m so proud of you,” says Aziraphale with feeling.

Junior wiggles happily on his shoulder. “I want to show sniblings!”

“Go right ahead, my love,” says Aziraphale, rolling up the paper so it is easier to carry. Junior takes it in his mouth and slithers over the couch to the terrarium to show off his story.

Aziraphale tries valiantly not to cry.

* * *

The children are all tucked in when Aziraphale decides to bring it up with Crowley.

“Anthony Junior wrote a story today,” he says.

“Hmm?” says Crowley, looking up from his phone, on which he is undoubtedly bothering people on the internet. “He did?”

Aziraphale offers the piece of paper, and Crowley takes a moment to read it.

“Angel,” he says after a long pause, “this is going on the fridge.”

* * *

One night, a few days later, just as Aziraphale and Crowley are about to put the snabies to bed, they find that their children are already huddled up in their terrarium. Four of them are curled up together, and Oscar stands apart, reading from a piece of paper propped up against the side of the habitat.

"...and then Sunnyside Up slither over to new thing and blelele it. It not smell bad! But not smell like food either. She don't know why it is in her home. She think hard. Then she slither around it and smell other side. It smell familiar. Maybe is safe. She crawl on top of it. Oh! Is like tree branch behind cave! Must be new tree branch. Emily so kind to give her new toy. Just like fathers. The end."

Crowley grips Aziraphale’s arm. “Angel,” he says faintly, “they’re telling each other bedtime stories.”

Aziraphale feels faint himself. “Oh dear. What do we do?”

“Discourage it?” suggests Crowley.

“Crowley!”

“It’s too adorable! I can’t handle this!”

Aziraphale steels himself and straightens up.  _ Stiff upper lip, _ old boy, he tells himself. “We will… have to endure,” he says.

Crowley clings to his arm, and Aziraphale holds him up while the children cheer at the end of the story. They must be strong. For the children.


	7. In which the snabies tell snories (snake stories)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snabies work together to write their fathers' epic love snory (snake story).

**The Angle and the Demon **

by Anthony Jr., Mal, Oscar, Rose, and Zed

Ones upon a tim, ther was garden. Very pretty! It hav many plants and flowers and bees, becos flower need bees for pollnashun. Ther were also birb! But no mongoose. Garden is safe.

Ther was angle in garden! He very pretty too. And kind! He was good angle. Best angle! He was watch over garden.

One day, snek came! He was first snek. He was good snek! Best snek! He black and hav red belly. Snek was also demon. Very pretty snek demon. Him hav red hair and yellow eyes. He say henlo to angle. Angle was kind so he does not hurt demon.

“Henlo,” say angle. “How are you?”

“I am fine,” say demon. “I am here to make wiles.”

“Oh deer,” say angle. “Try not to mak too manies.”

“Okie,” say demon.

Demon talk to humans in garden. They also pretty! Demon see appl tree. “Yum!” he say. “Appl gud! Try som! They mak you smart and stron.”

Humans ate appls, but God got arngy. Garden was God’s and God no want anyone to eat appl. So God mak humans leav. Oh no! Angel help them and give them flaming sord. Then angel and demon meet on wall.

“That was nice of you,” say demon.

“Thank you,” say angle.

Then they leav garden too. Them explor Earth together for six thousamd year! They fren! But they also love. The demon love angle. The angle love demon. But it snecret. They do not tel.

Then apocalips come! It scary. But humans stop it, becos they smart and stron. Heaven and Hell arngy, but angle and demon also smart. They escape! They choos to liv on Earth.

One day demon play trick on angle! He giv him ping pong balls.

“They are eggs,” he say. “Pleas take gud care of they.”

And angle did! He took so gud care, ping pong balls turn into real eggs. Then snek were borned! Five snek! When demon come back, he was shock! He was father! And the angle was father too! Now they both fathers, and sneks were children. They were very happy. Then them told they love.

“I love you,” say demon.

“I love you,” say angle.

And they liv happily ever aftner, with us!

The end.

* * *

A translation from Snaby Talk into English:

Once upon a time, there was a garden. It was very pretty. There were many plants and flowers and bees, because flowers need bees for pollination. There were also birds. But no mongooses. 

There was an angel in the garden. He was very pretty too. And very kind. He was a good angel. The best angel, even. He was watching over the garden. 

One day, a snake came! He was the first snake. He was a good snake! The best snake! He was black with a red belly. The snake was also a demon. He was also very pretty. He had red hair and yellow eyes. He said hello to the angel. The angel was kind, so he did not hurt the demon. 

“Hello,” said the angel. “How are you?” 

“I am fine,” said the demon. “I am here to make wiles.” 

“Oh dear,” said the angel. “Try not to make too many.” 

“Okay,” said the demon. 

The demon talked to the humans in the garden. They were also pretty! The demon saw an apple tree. “Yum!” he said. “Apples are good. You should try some. They will make you smart and strong.”

The humans ate the apples, but God got angry. It was God’s garden, and God didn’t want anyone to eat the apples. So God made the humans leave. The angel helped them and gave them a flaming sword. Then the angel and the demon met on the wall.

“That was nice of you,” said the demon. 

“Thank you,” said the angel. 

Then they left the garden, too. They explored Earth together for 6,000 years. They became friends! But they also loved. The demon loved the angel. And the angel loved the demon. But it was a secret. They did not tell. 

Then the apocalypse came! It was scary. But the humans stopped it, because they were smart and strong. Heaven and Hell were angry, but the angel and the demon were also smart. They escaped. They decided to live on Earth. 

One day, the demon played a trick on the angel! He gave him ping pong balls. 

“They are eggs,” he said. “Please take good care of them.” 

And the angel did! He took such good care, the ping pong balls turned into real eggs. Then snakes were born! Five snakes! When the demon came back, he was shocked. He was a father! And the angel was a father, too! Now they were both fathers, and the snakes were their children. They were very happy. Then they told they love. 

“I love you,” said the demon. 

“I love you,” said the angel.

And they lived happily ever after, with us! The end.


	8. In which Junior takes a trip to the supermarket

“Father,” said Junior, slithering across the back of the sofa and then throwing himself to lie dramatically over it, “I bored.”

Crowley looked up from his phone. “Where are the others?”

“Playing.”

“Why don’t you go play with them?”

“Because I bored, Father!” said Junior, raising his tail and head and then letting them fall back down again. “I so bored I die!”

“Ah, big mood,” said Crowley, and he tucked his phone into his jacket pocket. “Well, what should we do about it?”

Junior thought for a moment, rolling onto his back and then onto his front again. He did this a few more times, and Crowley watched him and thought of rolling pins.

“Advemchur!” decided Junior at last.

“All right, let’s go find one,” agreed Crowley, extending his arm for Junior to slither onto it. Crowley rolled to his feet and went in search of Aziraphale. He found him in the upper stacks, lost in a book.

“Angel,” said Crowley, and after he repeated himself twice more, Aziraphale started and whirled around to blink at him owlishly. “Junior and I are going on an adventure. Need anything while we’re out?”

Aziraphale hummed. “Some fruit and cheese, perhaps? And I think we’re nearly out of milk.”

“Right then.” Crowley turned on his heel and headed toward the front door. “See you later, angel.”

“Bye, Azirafather!” called Junior from Crowley’s shoulder.

Junior curled up in Crowley’s shirt pocket for the ride in the Bentley, peeking his head out to smell the air coming through the open window as Crowley drove through the city. London always had such interesting smells. Some of them were not so good, but they were always interesting. Sometimes Junior and his siblings would ask their fathers to explain the smells. One time, Crowley had to stop the car and get out to search for the source of the smell, because he couldn’t figure it out by their descriptions. It turned out to be some cinnamon rolls in a bakery. [9]

When Crowley got out of the car, Junior ducked his head inside his father’s pocket, but kept flicking his tongue out above him, trying to determine where they were just by the smells. At first it just smelled like London, but then Crowley went through a door and the smells changed.

“Chimkin, Father?” he asked.

“Not today,” answered Crowley. “Just getting some cheese.”

Junior retracted his tongue. He did not like smelly cheeses.

Crowley picked out a few and grabbed a baguette for good measure, and Junior peeked his head out now and again to see where they were. There were shelves of breads and a counter displaying cheeses and cuts of meat behind glass.

“Father, what is place?” he asked quietly.

“It’s a deli,” said Crowley.

“Where fruit?”

“We’ll go somewhere else for that,” said Crowley, stepping up to the counter. Junior raised his head to watch the transaction, and the cashier blinked but didn’t say anything. Crowley let Junior inspect a coin before handing it over. It smelled musty.

As they left the deli and walked down the street, Junior watched all the people milling around, doing whatever it is that humans do. Some of them were wearing hats. Hats fascinated Junior. What were hats for? Why did the humans wear them? Were they embarrassed about their heads?

A woman with a hat was walking toward them, holding a little girl’s hand and dragging her along. The little girl was tearful; her face was red, and she was sniffling quite a lot.

“Oh, quiet,” snapped the woman, yanking on the girl’s arm.

Junior hissed at her as she grew close, but she didn’t notice. The little girl did, though. She looked up with wide eyes at the little snake poking out of the man’s pocket. Junior flicked his tongue out in greeting, and the girl waved shyly before her mother pulled her forward and passed.

Junior slithered out of Crowley’s pocket to his shoulder to watch the girl go. She was looking back over her shoulder curiously, no longer sniffling.

“What’s wrong with that girl?” asked Junior.

Crowley shrugged and nudged Junior’s head so that he would slither back down. “Dunno. Could be anything, really. Maybe she didn’t get what she thought she needed. It’s hard being so little. Sometimes your emotions swell up.”

Junior nodded. “Lady was mean,” he said.

“Or her mother was being mean,” Crowley allowed.

They approached a large storefront and Junior ducked down again and flicked out his tongue. There were so many smells here, and he couldn’t parse out what they all were.

“Father, where are we?” he asked.

“A supermarket,” said Crowley. “Take a peek.”

Junior slowly raised his head so he could look, and his eyes widened. There were so many things! Now he knew why the smells were so mingled.

“Wow!” he said.

“This is where we’ll get your Azirafather some fruit,” said Crowley, grabbing a handbasket. “What kind do you think we should get?”

“Apple!” said Junior. Crowley chuckled and started toward a very colorful part of the store. There were a lot of things there that Junior didn’t recognize. “Father, what is that?” he asked.

“What is what? This?”

“No.”

“This?”

“No.”

“This?”

“Yeah!”

“That’s a mango.”

“What is mango?”

“It’s a fruit. It’s like… It tastes like…” Crowley thought for a moment. “Well, like mango.”

“I want try!” said Junior, wiggling excitedly, so Crowley grabbed a couple and put them in the basket.

They wandered through the fruit, and Junior asked Crowley about all the things he had never seen before. Apricots, nectarines, a spiky fruit that his father called “pineapple” (which made no sense, because it wasn’t like an apple at all). There were so many to choose from, and Crowley obliged Junior’s curiosity and got one of everything, plus some more of Aziraphale’s favorites (strawberries and grapes).

“Father, so many apples!” cried Junior, when they reached the apple display. He bounced up and down in Crowley’s pocket. “It’s like ball pit! I want to play.”

“The humans don’t appreciate that very much,” said Crowley with a forlorn sigh. “And besides, they’re very heavy. You’re a bit too small to use apples as a ball pit.”

Junior thought for a moment. “Maybe grapes ball pit?”

Crowley added another package of grapes to the handbasket, which definitely should not have fit so many things at once, though it would not dare let anything topple out.

They wandered through the vegetables, which Junior was not as interested in trying, though he was still very curious about what they all were called. They went up and down a few aisles, but those were not very fragrant. Everything in the aisles just smelled like dry cardboard and tangy metal.

They passed the meat section in the back, and Junior strained to lean out of Crowley’s pocket to flick out his tongue. So many meats!

“You have pinkies at home,” said Crowley, nudging his son’s head to keep him from falling out of his pocket.

“But whole chimkin!”

Crowley sighed and turned a corner, and suddenly, it was very cold. Junior fell back into the pocket and whined, pressing against Crowley’s chest.

“Father, is cold! Why cold?”

“Ah, sorry,” said Crowley, wincing. He was wearing enough layers to keep out the cold, but Junior only had scales. He snapped his fingers and Junior was in one of the little tube sweaters Aziraphale had knitted the children. “It’s the freezer aisle. They keep everything cold here so that it doesn’t go bad.”

Feeling a little warmer, Junior slithered up to poke his head out. He tasted the air, but it smelled very strange. Cold and sour. “Ew,” he said.

“We won’t stay long, don’t worry,” said Crowley, picking up the pace. He decided they should skip over the second freezer aisle, where all the ice cream was. Junior would want to pick up some, and then they would end up with five little snake brain freezes.

“Wait!” shouted Junior. “Father! I see chimkin nuggest!”

“What?” said Crowley. “No, that’s the next aisle over. This is just all frozen vegetables.”

“But I see them! Go back, go back!”

“I told you, you have pinkies at—”

“I SEE THEM, FATHER!”

Junior pointed his head down, and Crowley looked.

“Oh,” he said. “No, those aren’t chicken nuggets.”

“Yes they are!” said Junior, flicking his tail indignantly. “I not stupid, Father.”

“No, I mean,” said Crowley, “those are vegetarian nuggets. You wouldn’t like them.”

“Vegebletarian?” said Junior, tilting his head to the side.

“Right. No meat. Probably made from soy or something.”

Junior thought for a moment. “So no chimkin?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Well,” grumbled Crowley, “because some humans like to torture themselves without my help.”

Junior hummed thoughtfully. “I want try,” he decided.

“You won’t like it,” said Crowley again.

“It’s advenmchur!” cried Junior, and that was that. Crowley warned Junior back into the warmth of his pocket, and then opened the freezer door and grabbed a package. It said “Morningstar Farms” on it, which was a little funny. The things humans named their food sometimes. Crowley shook his head.

They picked up some chocolate from the candy aisle—“Don’t tell Auntie Vet,” whispered Crowley, and Junior nodded seriously—and when they had finished exploring the store and naming everything in sight— “What’s that, Father?” “Hmm. What do you think it is?” “Chimkin nuggest?” was the hopeful answer—Crowley walked over to the checkout. When the counter started moving, Junior gasped.

“Father, put me down!” he cried, and Crowley reached into his pocket and set Junior down on the conveyor belt, nudging the human cashier not to notice. Junior wiggled and screamed in joy as it moved and he tried to escape the pull of the “abyss” at the end of it.

“Abyss mongoose will eat me! Noooooo!” shouted Junior.

When the cashier had picked up the last item, Crowley scooped Junior back into his pocket. Junior laughed and wiggled, and then watched the exchange of money again.

Crowley stepped outside of the marketplace and sighed. “Well?” he asked. “Good adventure?”

“Good adventure!” agreed Junior.

“Let’s go make your siblings jealous,” said Crowley, petting Junior’s head.

“I’m going to make them eat not-chimkin nuggest!” said Junior. “But tell them it real!”

Crowley grinned. “That’s my boy.”

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Aziraphale pulled the tray of vegetarian nuggets out of the oven and glanced over at Crowley nervously. Crowley shrugged and gestured at the table, where the five little snakes were waiting impatiently for their treat. Junior was especially excited. He hadn’t told his siblings that they were fake. But he also hadn’t tried them himself yet.

“You have to wait for them to cool,” said Aziraphale, setting the tray down on the counter.

“But hungy!” cried the children.

Aziraphale still made them wait, and then he cut the nuggets into small pieces and put the pieces on five tiny plates.

“All right,” said Aziraphale, and this time Crowley returned his nervous glance. “Bon appétit.”

The children immediately lunged for their plates.

And then paused.

And then…

“FATHER, DON’T LIKE!”

“AZIRAFATHER, BAD FOOD!”

“IT’S BAD, FATHER!”

“FATHER, IT’S BAD!”

“Well,” said Aziraphale, shaking his head.

“It’s… an adventure?” said Crowley, looking at the nuggets dubiously.

After a few minutes of wailing, Junior slithered over to the edge of the table, looking distraught.

“Father,” he said, with large pleading eyes, “Father, need ice cream. Need ice cream to make bad taste go away.”

Crowley was suddenly thrown back into a sense memory of being in the freezer aisle and deciding not to look at the ice cream.

“Well,” he said, “shit.”

* * *

[9] It probably didn’t help that their descriptions were mostly, “It smell fun!” “It has tingly smell!” “It smell like Azirafather being cute!” [return to text]


End file.
